by Anya Nowlan
“Madeline, I love you. Thatch, you know everything I could say,” he murmured, his green and gold eyes solemn.
He knew it was always guesswork and he wanted to let them both know how much he cared before he had to make a decision that could doom them all. He only faintly heard both of them return the sentiments, but it was enough to put his mind at ease. Tex lashed at a wire with his clippers and held his fucking breath as the timer stopped at two seconds. For a moment, he thought that it was time and space slowing down around him that didn’t make it go any further, but the longer he waited, nothing happened.
“Okay. Drinks are on The Arctics,” he said, standing up and turning his back on the bomb like it was yesterday’s news.
Cheers erupted around him and Connor and Grim clapped him on the back as he strode past them and fell on his knees next to Madeline and Thatch. He scooped Madeline up into his arms and kissed her deeply, not caring that his face was marred with blood from the men whose throats he had ripped out, or that he was shaking all over from the strain of the whole fucking day and what he had just done. Her hands wrapped around his neck tightly and she smiled the most gorgeous smile even while they kissed. When he finally pulled back, he grabbed Thatch and crushed him in a hug as well.
They’d been through spots just as tight as this one, with the clock running out and death more than a certainty, and they’d walked out. But it had never felt so significant than it did now, knowing that his two baby boys were waiting for him to come home, and that his mates were… well, that he had two mates. Everything was coming together and he couldn’t have been gladder for it.
“Crisis averted,” Tex heard Connor say behind him, talking into the earpiece. “Get the car, I think we need to get a few people out of here, and some other crap too.”
“I’ll go get the second one,” Grim said and headed out.
In the excitement, Tex had forgotten—or should he say, stopped caring?—about the deal they’d made with Spade, and he assumed Thatch felt much the same. However, a promise was a promise and Connor was going to hold them both to it, thankfully enough. Spade was not the kind of guy they needed as an enemy at this point.
“If you ever fucking sneak off like that again, I swear…” Tex threatened, but the smile on his lips made all his words sort of shallow.
“You’ll come get me?” Madeline offered, giggling.
“Definitely,” Tex and Thatch said in almost unison.
“I’m sorry, though. I didn’t want you guys to get into any more trouble than you were already in on my account. I thought I could do something. And I think I did! My friend Charlie said—”
Tex hushed her with a finger on her lips, smiling gently. Blake and his demands were the furthest thing from his mind. What Tex wanted was to go home, lay his mate on the bed, fuck her until she couldn’t see straight, and then maybe worry about something else. Like his wounds, or his future in The Firm, or anything completely unimportant like that. But he loved her enthusiasm about the whole thing. It warmed him inside and out.
“We’ll have plenty of time for all of that,” Thatch said, his voice getting that same, deep growl to it that Tex knew his must have had, looking at Madeline’s blushing face and imagining what it would look like when she was screaming their names.
“Yup, you will. So get up and let’s get this shit out of here before Hemingway or any of the other teams show up. You know gunfire in a major building won’t stay under the radar for long. Is this stuff safe to move?” Connor asked, his voice more of a bark than anything else.
It got both of the wolves scrambling into action.
“Yup, without anything to feed the first detonation, they’re safe to move.”
“Okay, the cars will be out back in a minute, let’s start hauling,” Connor said, rolling up his sleeves and throwing his rifle over his shoulder. “Grant, keep an eye for any stray mutts we need to put down. Let’s get this done fast,” Connor said.
Thatch helped Madeline up and she was tasked with getting into the first vehicle she could as fast as she could. They were racing against the clock already and the Crawley twins were distracted enough by her smell alone, not to mention her presence. Tex hated to have her out of his immediate sight, but he checked on her every time he took another armful of highly fucking dangerous armaments into the vehicles, making sure she was still there, and still smiling that angelic smile of hers.
They cleaned up fast enough, storing all of the armaments in one car, and Thatch took the wheel, leaving with Grim to do the drop-off with Spade. Connor called in the situation, telling Hemingway the whole story—well, as much as they could anyway—as the rest of them piled into the other car and sped off seconds before ambulances and the police arrived.
Tex’s arm was around Madeline and their foreheads were resting together as Grant put pressure on his leg wound and wrapped it up as best as he could on the bumpy ride. Tex wouldn’t have cared if his leg fell off at that point. Madeline was sitting next to him and everything was going to be all right. He’d make sure of it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Madeline
Madeline had never felt so relieved to be back in a place that had what seemed like the highest consistency of bikers per square foot in all of America. As soon as they’d gotten back from Xavian, she’d run up to her room to check on her boys. Raze and Rhone were both sleeping soundly, as blissful as ever, and Mary had fallen asleep on Madeline’s bed.
She stayed there for a few good minutes, just looking at her baby boys, her hands on their bellies to feel their warmth. Soon after, Thatch snuck in as well, putting his arm around her waist and standing right beside her, looking at the kids.
“We’re never going to leave you alone again, I hope you know that,” he said, and there wasn’t an ounce of humor to it.
Madeline looked up at him with a grin, shaking her head. She took his hand and led him out of the bedroom, quietly shutting the door behind them. There were voices coming from the living room and both of them turned to walk slowly toward it.
“How did you guys get back so fast?” Madeline asked inquisitively.
She’d assumed it would take a long while for Thatch to do the drop-off with Spade. Though, to be honest, the less she thought about the whole thing the better she would feel. Armaments, detonations, spies, and terrorists were not things she wanted to mull over for too long. She’d had plenty of that now to last her a lifetime.
“Spade works fast,” Thatch replied with a shrug.
They stepped into the living room in time to see Tex engaged in a spirited argument with Grant, who was holding up a syringe of something, and Connor looking damned amused by all of it.
“Just get the goddamn shot, man. You don’t need it to get infected,” Grim said, lounging on a couch and inspecting his gear, which had been laid out on the table in front of him.
Dutch was alone in a corner as usual, keeping to himself, but his sharp eyes were keeping count of everything that was going on around him. Barkley was leaning back in a recliner, sipping on some whiskey and looking far too amused by all of it.
“I’m telling you, it’ll heal on its own,” Tex growled, though some of the energy went out of it when he saw Madeline and Thatch walk in.
Boys, she thought with an inkling of mirth.
Madeline walked over to the chair Tex was sitting on and lowered herself down on the armrest to sit next to him. She put a hand on his shoulder and he relaxed a little bit. No wonder. Men or babies, a woman’s touch could always soothe them, it seemed.
“Come on, get the shot. Grant knows what he’s doing,” Madeline said, nodding at Grant.
“I know that. I don’t fucking like needles though,” Tex grumbled, but he exhaled and ripped his already torn pants wider at the thigh, exposing skin. “Go ahead then, Doc. Go nuts.”
“Don’t mind if I do,” Grant commented, taking less than a second to shove the needle into flesh and emptying the clear liquid into the muscle. “Don’t think this means tha
t I don’t have to clean all of those wounds, though. I don’t care how tough you bastards are, I’m not going to be shooting you up if you catch an infection in the next jungle we go to because you were too manly to get your shit sorted when it was time for it.”
Grant pointed his finger at every single operative in the room, looking stern and commanding. Madeline could almost feel the collective sigh as they all went “Yes, Doc.”.
Tex was handing her back her phone when there was some commotion downstairs. Before Barkley could get up and check on what was going on, Colonel Hemingway strode in with long, purposeful strides. He only had Spade with him, who looked perfectly casual, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans. Madeline could easily imagine him whistling a jaunty tune in his head, even if he was trying to look something that could have passed for serious.
Squad Six was on their feet in a second, saluting the Colonel who stopped near Thatch. He returned the salute, while Spade didn’t join in. His eyes were pure murder, cold and irritated.
“Why is it that every time I hear that my operatives have been getting into pure bullshit, it’s always you guys? Is this some sort of sport for you? Do I not make myself clear enough? You are not to be seen, not to be heard, not to be noticed. You do not exist when there is no mission. I don’t care who you’ve been screwing,” he said, his voice calm, chilly, piercing.
Madeline felt herself slightly pouting in her seat, but she cleared that childish emotion off of her face quickly. She knew she’d gotten the whole squad into trouble. Whether that was the intention or not, it didn’t matter.
“Sir, yes sir,” the six ex-SEALs said, standing tense.
“Now, which one of you was it this time?”
“Sir?” Connor asked, quirking a brow.
“Causing this fucking mess. I assume it wasn’t you, Connor. I’d like to think you’ve learned your lesson.”
“I learn but I think repeating one’s bullshit is the road to enlightenment, sir,” Connor said, flashing an easy grin for the faintest second.
“It was us, sir,” Tex spoke up, Thatch catching the tail end of the comment.
“Sir, he’s speaking the truth. It was me and Tex. We learned of a plot to kill a civilian The Firm was previously involved with and we couldn’t stand by idly,” Thatch said, nodding.
Colonel Hemingway’s attention turned to Madeline and she felt her body going rigid. Even she stood up now, though she was far from a soldier, leaving Barkley as the only one that was still seated.
“Miss Beaumont. I hoped we wouldn’t be hearing from you again,” Hemingway said, cocking his head to the side in contemplation.
“I share the sentiment, Colonel,” Madeline said.
That brought a round of chuckles that Hemingway’s cross glare extinguished.
“She had their pups, Colonel,” Spade said, his voice practically radiating boredom with the whole situation. “From that mess with the train in Arizona.”
“Did we know about this?” Hemingway asked, glancing at Spade.
“Of course, sir,” Spade said, toothy grin begging to get punched.
“Well then. Congratulations, gentlemen. I’m sure you’ll have plenty of time to raise your pups while you’re looking for new employment,” Hemingway said, looking first at Thatch and then Tex.
Madeline spoke before she could think. “No! It wasn’t their fault!” she yelped, moving forward until Tex stopped her with a hand on her arm.
When she looked at him, he shook his head slightly. It wasn’t her fight. She bit her lip, feeling tears of guilt well up. The job meant a lot to her wolves, that much was obvious.
“If you lose those two, you lose the team, sir,” Connor said evenly.
“Is that a threat, Lieutenant?” Hemingway inquired, his voice perfectly still again, like the surface water of a well.
“No, it is a statement, sir. You take out comms and explosives and we’re useless. It’ll take years to build us up again.”
There was a grumble of agreement from Grim, Grant, and Dutch.
“They did stop The Arctics,” Spade said, leaning against the doorframe indifferently. “I don’t think they’re a threat at this point. Much like Connor here, the Crawleys have gotten it out of their system now. And we saved the building and Xavian research, and thanks to that avoided a major crisis.”
“We?” Tex asked, snorting. “As in The Firm? Squad Six did it with no help from the rest of The Firm.”
“Squad Six is a part of The Firm, Sergeant. Don’t forget that. You all came to us battered and broken. Trained, yes, but shadows of the men you are now. And the same way we built you up, we can break you again. Don’t forget this,” Hemingway said.
The usually unflappable, stern, but understanding Colonel was obviously annoyed. From what Thatch had told Madeline, he was generally a very stable, balanced leader, the kind that men would gladly follow into battle. She got the feeling that there might be something more going on than simple irritation at acting without command, but she was no mind-reader-
“Ultimately, it was going to be their mission anyway,” Spade pushed, a note of something sharp in his voice now.
Hemingway turned to face him, his voice a low growl. “Don’t push me, Spade. The armaments are still missing. As far as I’m concerned, the mission was not completed. The building was saved and The Arctics did not gain access to the formulas they wanted, but we’re missing twenty-four highly dangerous explosives and our job was to retrieve them.”
There were a few glances amongst Squad Six, but no one spoke a word. Spade held the Colonel’s gaze for a long while, before nodding and turning his eyes to the floor.
“Understood, sir.”
“Ray, I think you and I need to have a talk,” Barkley said suddenly, standing up from the couch like a bear from hibernation.
He strode across the room and the two big men eyed each other for a moment, before clapping hands together and then hugging in a display of pure brutal camaraderie. Madeline even allowed a small smile to cross her lips as she watched them. Hemingway had been going to lengths to ignore Barkley while he addressed the squad, she’d noticed that, but she hadn’t been sure why. It was obvious now that the two men were old friends.
“I don’t disagree. At ease,” Hemingway said, following Barkley out of the living room.
Everyone froze until they could hear the kitchen door close and then glasses clinking behind it. Madeline let out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding and Tex slumped back into the chair.
“We’re fucked. Thanks, Spade,” he said, pulling a hand through his hair in frustration.
“Hold on, no we’re not,” Thatch said, his gaze flicking to Spade.
“No, you’re not,” Spade agreed, wearing a thin grin on his lips that made even Madeline want to tackle him and rip it off his face. “Don’t worry, we’ll find a way to preserve your little jobs. I owe you that much.”
“Wow. Spade admitting he might owe someone something. This is a fucking first. Alert the press,” Dutch snorted, rarely the one to join in on things like that.
All eyes shifted to him, and then back at Spade. Spade’s smile got wider and he nodded slowly, like he was thinking it over how to gut Dutch later.
“I’ll remember that next time you need help, Dutchy boy. I’m sure you and I can have a lot of fun together.”
“All I’m saying is that you better watch your goddamn back when you start throwing out threats, man,” Dutch said, his eyes getting dark and stormy.
“Same to you,” Spade shot back, standing up straight.
He was the tallest guy in the room and his slightly slimmer, though still thick and strong form could have made Madeline mistakenly think that he was outmatched. Somehow, she got the feeling that the intel officer could hold his own. Maybe not against Squad Six like this—well, definitely not like this—but he had his ways. The way his eyes flashed told her that much. He was a dangerous guy and Madeline hoped Dutch knew the kind of fire he was playing with.
<
br /> Spade excused himself soon after and it was a tense hour while Squad Six and Madeline waited for any news or progress coming from the kitchen. Grant eventually talked a few of them down, including his brother Grim, to get their wounds cleaned and checked. Madeline was surprised to find that the cuts and bruises, only a few days old, were already healing quickly and simply needed to get cleaned out a little to avoid anything getting stuck in the closing flesh.
She stayed close to Tex and Thatch the whole time, or that was to say, they were all keeping close to one another. Like they were worried that if they went too far, they might lose one another again. It might have been a bit irrational, but it had been a long few days and Madeline could do with a little bit of stability now.
When Barkley and Hemingway finally emerged from the kitchen, both chuckling at something or another, the room went tense again and the squad was on their feet.
“At ease, boys,” Barkley said, waving them down, and Hemingway followed it up with a nod of his own.
“Tex and Thatch, Barkley’s been telling me a bit about your kids.”
“He means I was reminding him of the shit he pulled when Nick was born and how that should have ended with a dishonorable discharge,” Barkley said with a snort.
“Sure, that,” Hemingway conceded. “This is not over. As much as my old friend would like me to be soft and happy in my old age, I am not. However, I will mull this over and have Spade look into the details some more. Consider both of you, and hell, why not, the rest of you on probation. Again. Connor, I want this to stop,” Hemingway said, looking Connor dead in the eye now.
Connor nodded curtly, saluting. “Sir, yes sir.”
“Good. Barkley, I’ll be over for a beer tomorrow. Stop hiding my squads or I’ll get that tank removed. You hear me?”
